Legends of Valoran
by Erindor
Summary: A set of reader-requested one-shots. Yes, I know no one has ever done that. Up to now: Mordekaiser, Brand, Lucian and Yasu/Riv
1. Birth of the Unliving

Story One: Birth of the Unliving

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 **Author's Notes: Welcome to my side project!**

 **This here you see is a set of reader-requested one-shots I'll be working on. If you want to see something special, either send me a review or a PM with what you want. Be warned that I'll write no smut nor anything way too violent/bloody/gory. I want to keep this T-rated. For all you readers of Valoran Bleeding that stumble on this in the archives, fear not, for I'll keep giving my main story most of my attention.**

 **Now, be welcome to the first story, one with my personal favorite champ, Mordekaiser!**

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Sometimes, lost souls wander our world. It has always been like this, and it always will be so.

However, back then the souls didn't wander our worlds as often as nowadays. They were very uncommon, these lost souls, and they would always try to keep their distance. All of them eventually would find peace and finally be able to rest.

But, one time, that didn't happen; and thus, the first Undead was born. He used to be a brave knight, but his soul got corrupted by the passing years. Eventually, he became evil, and his soul, which should have been freed ages before, fused with his old belongings: The man became a living suit of armor, and Mordekaiser was born.

In his early years of existence, the Master of Metal tried to keep distance from the world: He travelled to a faraway land, overseas from all the known world.

However, it wasn't far enough. Few centuries later, that Island where he had gone to saw the arrival of Men, and soon became a place of wonders built by the livings. It was the beginning of the Kingdom of the Golden Isles, a country that lasted for over a millennia.

The living at first didn't go deep enough to disturb the Master of Metal, and the cursed man didn't even notice this new kingdom born at his doorsteps, but the men eventually got way too ambitious. They went deep into the island, searching every mile for valuables.

In little time, they discovered what they had awakened: One of their mines, the deepest of them, suddenly stopped communicating with the rest of the land. None of the sent messagers returned, and all reports they ever received from the mine was that it seemed long abandoned.

The Prince of the Island decided to go investigate himself. He called for the felp of his fifteen most trusted knights and went to search for answers.

When they arrived to the mine, they found it to be just like the descriptions: it seemed to have been abandoned for years. Not any single evindence of life could be found, and every man of the group felt anxiety. Each time they stepped towards the excavations, their fear increased exponentially. If it wasn't by the presence of the Prince, most of the men would've given up the mission even before it started.

But the Prince stayed faithful. He never once thought about fleeing.

The company went into the mine, following the lead of the member of the Royal Family.

They found something terrifying inside it.

They found their compatriots, dead and with their bodies twisted over human comprehension, they found the souls of their friends, broken and afraid.

The Prince wouldn't allow them to exit the Mine before knowing what did such vile actions and purging it from the world.

That was the last mistake he would do in his life.

They went even deeper in that hellhole, each of them nearly going crazy and fearing every single shadow in their path.

Eventually, they reached the deepest chamber of the mine. There, they found a suit of armor seated on a throne. It had glowing red eyes, and no one ever doubted he was the man responsible for the atrocities they had previously seen.

The Prince, who was impulsive and emotional, charged at the armor, blinded by rage.

He expected his men to follow him.

He didn't notice he was alone.

The prince, using all of his momentum and his trusty spear, attempted a risky strike: He jabbed the spear tip on the chest of the Master of metal, piercing right through his heart.

He would've killed any man with that, but the Master of Metal didn't even flinch. The suit of armor rose up from its seat, revealing its true height: It was three meters tall, his chest above the Prince's head.

The sudden movement jerked the spear, which was still stuck in the armor, off the hadns of the prince.

The prince turned around, ready to make his retreat and rejoin his company.

He was met by his fifteen knights, but they weren't quite the same anymore.

They all were now enslaved souls. The prince had been cornered.

He was defenceless, alone and he had no escape.

He waited for his death.

And waited.

And waited.

But, for some reason his death wasn't coming.

He opened his eyes.

The armor was still towering over him. Its red eyes terrifying to look at, but for some reason the prince was unable to turn his eyes away from them.

The cursed suit eventually spoke, its voice loud and deep:

"Who are you?"

The Prince refused to answer, doing one last stand instead.

The prince raised his hands and punched the armor in the chest, trying to somehow wound the demon he was facing.

Thrice he stroke, and thrice his blows made an echoing sound of metal hitting hollow metal. His punches were forceful, each of them bending the metal of the plate until it looked like the titan tried to stop a moving train with his chest.

The juggernaut's eyes started to fade. For a second, the Prince allowed himself to have hope.

The eyes went back to their previous glowing red, like nothing had happened. All the damage the armor had taken disappeared, leaving the breastplate shining like it had just been polished.

The twisted voice of the Master of Metal rose up again, coming seemingly out of nowhere:

"If you will not answer me, then so be it, fool."

The Prince then noticed something he hadn't seen before: Right aside the throne, a giant mace, as tall as him, was resting on the wall.

Mordekaiser took the weapon with no effort on his right hand, lifting it up and placing it on his shoulder.

"I could have given you a quick death, but, as you are so determined, let us see how long you will take until you break."

The Juggernaut raised its left hand, like he was about to punch the Prince from above.

The Prince resisted for half an hour before falling down, his life ended by the mind-shattering pain.

The suit of armor sighed. He hated it when the fools chose the hard way.

He already knew all about the Prince that had just been murdered, but he wanted to be sure of what he was about to do. His plan could have no flaws.

He once again lifted his left hand, conjuring his control over the souls of the dead. He brought the soul of his last victim back.

"What? What is this?"

"This, fool, is your hell. And I am the Devil that will torment you."

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The King had gone mad. His only son had been missing for a week already, and no signs of him anywhere.

He started to roam the halls of his once-great palace, and he had ordered that he was the only one to stay in there.

The King's soul was being eaten away by mourning, and he already had been reduced to a shadow of the man he used to be.

However, all was about to take a turn for the worse, for in that seventh day a suit of armor went into his palace, carrying a sack on his back.

The King met the giant in the courtyard inside the building. He at first was furious, but the suit of armor managed to calm him down and actually start a conversation.

"Your Highness, I have heard about your son's misterious disappearance. And I have news about it."

The King's disbelief was large enough to not allow him any movements.

"He is in here, with us."

The King's disbelief made him angry, as there it was no way his son was somewhere in the castle.

However, before he could verbalize his anger, the man dropped the sack he had been carrying.

The bag fell down on the floor with a loud _thump_. It immediately opened itself, revealing what was inside it.

The King cried out in despair. His son was not missing anymore.

Instead, he was right in front of him. Dead.

The King got once more washed over by despair, sadness and mourning. He was his only son, as his wife had died when giving birth and he never married again. He was the last member of his family, and the King was becoming old.

"Heed my words, your Highness. I know you are despaired, and I know why. However, we still have one last hope. I know how to bring your son back. I just need two weeks and all the supplies I ask you."

The heartbroken King accepted that offer in a heartbeat. He'd have his son back! He hadn't truly lost his whole family! It was just a small inconvenience that had happened.

The King didn't for a single moment doubt the juggernaut in his front. He wouldn't dare to lie to a king, would he? And even if he did lie, what evil would come out of it?

* * *

It had been done. The King had given Mordekaiser all he asked for, and he did just what he promised. He had brought the Prince back.

The King rushed into the room. His face was pure sheer, sweet despair. Which delightful agony he must've felt in that moment, when he noticed what they had done toghether!

"No... no... NO! THIS WAS NOT WHAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO DO!"

 _'Oh, now the fool wants me to undo what can't be undone?'_ Mordekaise thought. He was sure he would be smiling if he could, but not having a face doesn't allow facial expressions. Part of the few disadvantages that came with unlife.

"Heh, fool! Did you really think his reanimation would be that cheap? Everything has a price, old man. Look now, look at what we did! Look at this abomination, this abomination that so beautifully defies life and nature! This is only the start, however. What has been done cannot be undone, and now the corruption shall spread. There it is no escape of this scourge."

The King was furious, but sighed in acceptance. It was his fault, after all. He allowed that man to do what he had done.

"At least let me see the face of the man that decided to doom the world."

Mordekaiser laughed.

"It is great to see how clueless you are, mortal. I thought you were a king, but surely mankind isn't led by a fool like you, is it? I am no human, fool, and I have no face. All you need to know is that I am your death. Your land's dying, fool, and what did you do to stop it?"

The King opened his mouth to answer with all of his fury, but no sound came from his throat. The corruption had already spread to him, and his very throat had rotten before he was able to speak.

All of the once-beautiful islands were suffering the same. All of it was dying.

To think that just one soul could cause all of that is truly horrendous, but Mordekaiser wasn't over: He still had an army of souls to rise, a nation to build and a world to sack and defile.

He still had so much he could do! That was no problem though, for he also had all eternity.

After all, what is already dead cannot be killed.

And I won't stop until all Runeterra is my own personal hell.

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 **A/N: So, what do you think? Is my story good, OK or bad? Tell me your opinions, guys!**

 **I guess that's all. See ya'll next time.**


	2. The Burnt Note

Story Two: The Burnt Note

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 **AN: Welcome to the second one-shot of this compilation! The chosen charachter this time for the story was Brand. If you suggested something else, don't be worried. I'll keep you all on the list, and the randomizer might choose you next. I'll eventually write most, if not all, of the requests I get.**

 **Also, if you're a reader of Valoran Bleeding, I'm sorry for not really updating, but: 1- I did update, but it was only in the chapter and for some reason the archives don't consider that an actual change and update the info, and 2- Writing short stories like this one usually is easier than writing long chapters of a nearly novel-sized fic, which means this will get probably updated more often. I'll still try to writ VB as much as I can, though. It's just that I'm in an especially tough part.**

 **But enough of this. You probably are here for the story, anyways.**

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Ice and Fire.

Two things as old as our world.

Two opposing forces whose clashing has shaped the very land.

Two things that definitely shouldn't go together.

No, two things that simply cannot coexist.

Yet, there it was: A flame frozen by the cold of the north.

It was even stranger than what it sounds. The flame was burning inside its small frozen encasement. The fire recused to die down and the ice refused to melt, making an impossible, yet beautiful, composition.

Kegan Rodhe couldn't resist. The artifact in front of him surely had magical properties, and he and all of his crew had learned through their trials to stay away from magic, but that single piece of ice was so enticing it was about to make him break all the anti-magic rules he himself had created for his crewmembers.

He took the first step forward. His second-in-command tried to stop him, and got cut down by an axe he hadn't even time to see. The rest of the crew would try to stop him, but one death had been more than enough to stop any action from actually being done.

The men, however, still tried to convince their captain to come back. They couldn't see; they couldn't understand. They weren't the ones who had been called by the voice.

Kegan slowly approached the ice encasing the flame, his hand extending out. He touched the fire.

A sudden burst of flames lightened the cave up, emanating so much light all of the Lokfarian were blinded.

They eventually recovered their sight, but just to see the horrendous sight of a man burning alive. However, their leader burning wasn't the most terrifying part, nor was the smell of flesh being burnt past all kinds of recovery. No, the worst of it all was the laughter.

Kegan was dying, and laughing like a madman while doing so.

His body had been burnt black by the flames, but he still moved normally, as if the fire had always been there.

He slowly turned to his men.

Or rather, his body turned to his men, but it wasn't him anymore.

It was something else, something inherently evil. That Lokfarian was known for being ruthless and cruel, but even he couldn't be called evil, like most humans. However, whatever had gotten control of his body must've been born in hell.

I can say so because I was there. I saw him becoming a flame. I saw him burning to death each of our former companions. And I escaped him.

That only happened because I was considered a weakling by them, and thus was forced to walk behind all of the oh-so-prideful warriors.

And I must say, being a weakling is a good way to survive, as long as you have also the right amount of cowardice. I fled while they fought, but I still saw them die in the fire. I also saw his face. The face of that devil. He was smiling, like if killing all those men was just a hobby he enjoyed. I still have nightmares about it, about him deciding I have lived too long, about he actually caring about my demise.

I also have the marks to remember that fateful day: My entire left arm is still marked by the flames that jumped from man to man inside that hellhole of a cave.

I barely escaped serious wounds, the fire hitting only my arm, but still it hurt like hell. I can't even imagine how painful dying in flames must've been. Yet, that devil was just watching his gruesome handiwork and – the worst of it all – showing his satisfied smile. His smile was like he had just done his task - like killing was but a chore he had.

While I was leaving. I made eye contact with him. That is the main reason I'm afraid he'll come after me. His eyes were death staring at me. I don't know how my fear didn't freeze me right there, but those bright orbs had already marked me for life. I am now a man who fears all fire, or any light. I don't know how I'll deal with that, or even if I'll deal with it at all. I fear that, if I ever abandon the darkness and embrace daylight once again, I won't see him coming.

And… wait… where is that light coming from?

No… It can't be him… Can it?

I remember my captain once said that, if I ever left him behind and fled, he'd find me. Even if he was dead, whatever was left of his body would come after me.

He was more right than what anyone would imagine.

He's bringing hell to end us, and I don't see how we can stop that thing.

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 **AN: So spooky! Consider yourselves formally spooked.**

 **I got many interesting suggestions, from the extremely cracky Kha'Zix and Rek'Sai suggested by "Your Brother", who happens to be my brother :p, to, well, to this Brand story I wrote. I am very thankful for all the love you guys gave me, and i certanly look foward for more *not even asking for reviews*.**

 **Also, two of my favorite authors from this site reviewed this! Thank you two for being constant inspiration for me to write!**

 **So, I think I'll write answers to all those reviews. Welcome to the Review Reply Corner(tm), a place where I reply your reviews!**

 **Malleus08:** Lucian defnitely is an intersting character and I'll love to write it when the randomizer says so. Until then, stay tuned and see what I have in store :)

 **Creator0fWords:** Well, your OTP will have to wait. Brand was chosen, and there's nothing I can do about that. I won't break the rules I created to try to be fair. Don't think this means I don't love you anymore, you still are the best! Let's just hope the randomizer gives you more luck next time.

 **Oceanbourne:** Your idea, which was just as great as the previous ones, was the chosen! Celebrate your luck, oh fabled writer! Next time the Randomizer might not be so kind towards you. But it might be even kinder, who knows? It's totally random anyways :p

 **Your Brother:** SOWWY! I JUST COULDN'T CONTAIN THE FACEPALMS! FORGIVE ME ONI-SAN!

Also, you were late. Brand already had been chosen. Better luck next time.


	3. A Man's Deathbed

Story Three: A man's Deathbed

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 **AN: So, my dear readers, here we meet again, with a new chapter just out of the pocket! This time, I'm bringing Lucian up, as Malleus08 had requested. I decided to go to a future-ish background, just after he confronts Thresh and finally gets his revenge. I hope you enjoy it, and feel free to review, if you want. I will always answer them, be it in a PM or in a paragraph on the "Review Reply Corner(tm)". Also, if you follow or favorite this story (or rather, these stories), I am very thankful.**

 **But now, enjoy the story! I know I enjoyed writing it :)**

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It's even funny, how my life was completely destroyed by him. You'd think that the so-called "Thresh Prince" would be the one to have his whole life turned upside-down but no, it had to be me. It had to be the one last soul in this damned world who hadn't been corrupted by evil yet. The one damned soul that still was able to love all and to pity all, the one soul who still had compassion for his foes and love for his friends. He had to take the last soul that actually was good and turn it in a revenge-driven machine of a man.

He got what he had coming.

But I believe so did I.

It all started years ago. She, my wife, Senna was her name, and I, we used to be two of the Purifiers. Yes, the Purifiers, that old demon-hunting order and what not. We were part of it, and for a good reason. We wanted a better world. Somewhere a man wouldn't have to watch each of his steps out of a city, fearing to be jumped upon by an army of hungry fiends. A world where pain and misery would not be caused by the wicked beings anymore. A world where mankind was finally free of the evil born of its past sins.

We had a dream, yes. We had an utopia on our minds.

Everything seems so easy when we are young, when life hasn't spat on your face enough to make you understand how it works.

At a first moment, it was wonderful. We'd set off together, fight together, kill the monsters together, save any victims within our reach together, and then return safely to our home.

But then, the Isles rose up. Hecarim, a beast as huge as it was mighty, rode Valoran through, slicing his path through both Noxians and Demacians as if they were grass waiting to be mowed down. Mordekaiser, the Master of Metal, started appearing at seemingly random patterns, brutally murdering and then enslaving all who dared to stay on his path and all unlucky enough to be his target. Karthus, a lich who willingly died, seeking undeath, harvested souls in the middle of us.

And he also came.

Thresh.

Even thinking about him leaves a sour taste on my mouth.

All of the mighty leaders of the undead would cause suffering unimaginable and only leave broken corpses behind them, but none was like Thresh.

Hecarim had a mission, and his victims were trying to stop him. Mordekaiser had his oh-so-great plan, and a whole army of souls to build. Karthus was converting the foolish valoranian to his Cult, convincing through sheer force they shouldn't fear the reaper. Thresh had no reason. No mission, no evil plans, no religion to raise with death. He had no reason to kill, nor to torture, nor to destroy.

But he never gave his actions a second thought.

I guess he kind of had his own reason. Pleasure.

There it never was a soul with such sadism, and I hope there it never will be another.

More than once I saw the souls of the dead left behind by the Lords of the Isles. Hecarim was practical, not wasting a single movement. All of his victims would have a single, clean cut either right through their chests, through his mid-section, often leaving two pieces of what used to be one, or a cut right through the neck. Decapitation at its finest. Mordekaiser was a mistery: some of his victims seemed to have suffered no violence, neither mental nor physical, while other were the opposite: corpses truly brutalized, remains that looked hardly human. Karthus would always give his victims a quick, painless and unavoidable blow, and that would be it.

But Thresh's victims were a whole different story. Not even a single corpse was in a normal shape: Every single victim of his would be broken beyond recognition while human, and then broken even more, tortured until their last seconds.

The worst part was, it didn't even end there: All of his victims had their souls collected and encased in that unholy lantern of his. Stored, like tools or supplies. And they were supplies to him: Just a few more subjects for his sadism and cruelty. He'd do the most sick and twisted things imaginable: Torture your friends and your family before your own eyes, mercilessly cleave them to death, and then force their souls to come back together just so he could do an encore for his audience. He'd torture you until you begged death to him, and then he would comply: He'd kill you, in the most painful way possible. But wait, it wasn't over! He'd force you to revive, his torture unending.

He was pure sadism, craziness and evil, the very exemplar of a twisted mind.

He had to be taken down.

And who better to do that than the two purifiers that had never failed? The couple with the ancestral sacred weapons?

So, we, foolish youths, departed to finish his wicked existence.

It failed. Terribly.

We got the ambush part we had planned to work perfectly, but he was stronger than what we had expected.

We had the strongest anti-undead traps known back them.

We should've known it would fail; he was one of the Four Lords, not just any undead we had already faced.

I was the one to fail. He used me and my weak mind to break free. Had I resisted, Senna would probably still be here.

But I failed, and paid a price way too high.

His damned scythe, it was sharper than what it should be possible. It just was able to cut her armor through like it was paper. And he was an avid paper-cutter, never would he stop if he wasn't forced to.

Just like the hundreds before her, she was slain brutally by that demon. And, just like the thousands before her, she was captured. She was shoved in the lantern, stored for future torture.

I never got over it, I must admit. My life became vengeance. I, who used to be the kind half.

I, who was the merciful half, was corrupted into a hard, vengeful person. I, who never would harm a fly if not needed, became just what I fought. I gazed too long into the abyss. It stared right back at me.

And may God strike my soul down if I wasn't fascinated by it. I guess evil always had been the easy way. It all just is so easy when you're evil, when you use the means of the twisted. When you become one of them.

I used to be gentle, a kind soul in this accursed land. I was re-shaped in a ruthless gun-slinger, sworn to kill the beast and all who tried to stop me.

I never really killed any human, but I did many things I am ashamed of, in this mad quest for vengeance of mine. People I hurt, people I used, people I tortured, even, just because they were too afraid of the Warden to just give away the information I was seeking. I had been blinded by my rage. I used to say he killed my good half. I didn't know just how right I was.

There it is so much I would undo if I could, and yet so little time to try and cleanse myself of my sins. There it is so much to try and make right again, and so little time.

It would be easier to let my eyes close, to let Hell take me. And then, I'd meet him again there.

Oddly enough, that sounds so right, so deserved.

I guess my hands became tainted beyond repair.

I took decades to finally catch him, to finally get my chance at vengeance.

I had him cornered.

And yet, he was too strong. His scythes were too sharp, his movements too quick. What should've been a clean execution became a bloody battle.

A battle I came out on top, but once again at a price too high.

He did one final attack, just when I thought he was gone for good. I had already been hit at my limbs by those damned wepons, and I knew how hard they hurt.

But I hadn't tasted a hit at the chest.

And, now I can tell you, it was terrible. It was the pain of dying thrice and then thrice again, the pain of tasting pure evil touching you heart and trying to rip it off.

I did pull the trigger, and I did kill him, but now I too am fading away. I can feel life seeping out of my body through my chest. And, mark my words, there it never was a death so blissful as this death I am having. It is the feeling of freedom, of accomplishing what you needed.

He definitely got what was coming for him, but so did I. So did I.

* * *

 **AN: RIP in pepsi Luciano.**

 **I believe I did a pretty solid job on this one. Feel free to agree or disagree with this if you do review, but I think I portrayed Lucian at least decently well.**

 **Also, I have already decided (THE RANDOMIZER ONCE MORE HAS SPOKEN!) that the next one will be a Kat/Ashe one shot, which I will probably make sad/angsty, just because I am terrible at writing fluffy love cute thingies. It's coming up soon(tm), I Garen-tee you!**

 **And now, grab your seat and get ready, for it's time of the GLORIOUS, MARVELOUS, THE ONE AND ONLY...**

 **REVIEW REPLY CORNER(tm)!**

 **Malleus08:** Well, thank you for the praise! I am happy to know you were pleased. However, I now need to know if you liked this one you asked (wink, wink) You know, maybe you should review telling that to me (more winking).

After all those efforts I was doing to fish a review from you, you probably should not review and, instead, just send me a PM just to troll me out.

SO, I HOPE YOU LIKED THIS ONE I WROTE BECAUSE OF YOU. DEFINITELY TELL ME WhETHER YOU LIKE THIS OR NOT!

 **Redgum:** Thank you, m8. I always try to take a deep look at the characters I'm going to write about, and hearing that people noticed that and liked it is great!

So, Yasuo and Riven, huh? I sent you a PM 'bout that, read it!

Also, I hope the next few stories please you as much as the previous did!

 **So, this marks the end of my time here. For now.**

 **Goodbye, everybody! I've got to go!**

 **{Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth**

 **Mama, oh! (Anyway the wind blows)**

 **I don't wanna die**

 **I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all}**

 **Meh. Maybe I should listen to less Queen. Nah, I'm good.**

 **So, this is it, people! See you next time!**


	4. The Showdown

Story Four: The Showdown

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 **AN: After a probably longer than what you'd like time, I'm back with a new story! This time it's a friendship/very slight angst/slight romance fanfic, between Riven and Yasuo! I hope you like it. :)**

* * *

I used to be an honorable warrior, a prideful defender of my people.

Now, I'm exiled from my own land, and I'll be killed on the spot if I ever go back.

Now, all I do is wander along the wind.

Oh, and drink too. I never thought I'd even drink myself to sleep, but right now it seems like I can only be unconscious when drunk.

It feels like the world just hates me. Nothing that I have done good in the past can get me rid of my supposed sins, of the crime I am not culprit of.

All that's left to me is to try and find the true murderer. Not an easy task, I guess. Only thing I know about them is that they must be noxian. Which means my search is reduced to only a few millions of people.

* * *

I used to be a true daughter of Noxus, one of our strongest soldiers.

Now, I am scorned by my own land, a victim of treason at its vilest.

Now, I am a noxian seeking redemption, a woman with dreams of her true Noxus back.

Now, I am a woman beaten down by life, a foe to all who once were my allies. I am an icon, an object that all noxian can hate to hide the flaws of our oh-so-grand government.

Above all else, I now am a lost exile, a woman lost in her own life, someone whose ideals were stomped upon by her very friends.

All that's left to me now is to drown myself in drinks, to try and forget all that's happened. Someday I'll rise again. Someday I will show Noxus my strength, rising again. But, until then, I'll have to wander, forever trying to flee my past sins.

* * *

The man who walks aside the wind entered the tavern, somewhere in the lands in-between Demacia and Piltover. He'd better keep low, as even here someone could try and arrest him, to take him back to Ionia and get the prize on his head.

Immediately, he headed to the counter, behind which a fat man was sitting. The man was bald, with a long, orange beard falling over his bare chest.

"Hey, bartender, bring me your strongest drink."

The man, which had been excitedly with a cloaked customer, turned towards him, his previously drunk-looking eyes now becoming a deep, examining stare and his joyous face suddenly turning into a serious frown.

Yasuo was about to ask something along the lines of what, and getting ready to not reveal anything about him, when the fat man's face turned back into a happy, understanding smile.

"I'm not even gonna ask what happened to ya, but be careful with what you ask. Ever heard of vodka? Ours is the strongest 'round, if ya really feel like having a real drink."

Yasuo let his face show a small smile, even though he wasn't happy. That man truly was one of a kind, the bartenders who didn't ask things were becoming very rare.

"Sounds good. I'll have it."

* * *

The woman quietly approached the newcomer. He had already asked for Gragas' special vodka? He probably was someone good to drink with. And drinking with company always was better than alone, as she had discovered in all these years afte the war.

People usually saw her as a loner, but that wasn't true. She only avoided company for precaution, to avoid possible foes. But this man, this man was a kind she knew well.

From his sunk shoulders, she knew he was tired, beaten down by life. From the unfocused, sad gaze of his eyes, she knew he had been somehow wronged or betrayed. From his facial features and his clothing, which despite being ragged from use still showed out a few of its former characteristics, she was sure the man was either born in Ionia or lived there for most of his life.

He was a hopeless man, someone whose life had been completely shattered.

She knew that kind of person all too well.

She quietly sat on a bench aside the man, who definitely was a looker, despite his old rags and unkempt, shaggy beard. His long hair, tied in a ponytail, probably helped to attract her.

She decided that he did make her kind, but she wasn't about to try to seduce someone she just met in a bar.

And instead, she took the chance to try and have a bit of fun with someone who knew how life truly was.

"Life's been hard for you, hasn't it?"

The man slowly turned his head to her, giving her a tired, but still piercing and examining stare.

He probably decided she wasn't posing a threat, for he let the corners of his mouth curve slightly upwards and said:

"You don't know how hard."

It was now time for her own mouth to become a thin smile.

"I might not know, but I do have an idea. You've been through hard times back in Ionia, haven't you?"

His eyes went wide open. Probably he didn't expect someone to identify his homeland in a bar so many miles away from it.

His hand started a quick, trained motion for his sword, but she stopped it, holding his arm way before it could even reach the handle.

"Now, now, don't be so quick. We don't want to start a brawl and have Gragas kickin' us outta here, do we?"

He didn't dignify her with an answer, instead making a question:

"How do you know that I'm Ionian?"

He was actually oblivious to what revealed him? Riven heard herself giggling inside her head, but managed to keep her laughter away.

"Well, for starters, not many walk around with robes that definitely were made in Ionia, and still have been through years of abusive use. Also, not many men that were actually born in Valoran's mainland use long hair. It's more of a trend from the isles round Valoran, really."

His previously startled and afraid, even, look now had softened into a small smile, recognizing the slyness of the white-haired woman.

"I guess you're right. Still, I want to know what leads you to believe I've been through hard times there."

Riven sighed to herself. The man didn't seem so unaware of what his actions meant before she had talked to him.

"I heard you askin' Gragas for his strongest drink, and I saw your eyes before talkin' with you. Knowin' you were from Ionia, it wasn't hard to guess what made you so depressed. Anyways, care to share a drink?"

She said that right on spot, just when Gragas had returned from his stock with a brand new bottle of his own-produced vodka. Without even waiting for Yasuo's response, he put two cups down on the counter and filled both with a shot each.

Before he could walk away, though, Riven stopped him.

"We'll have the whole bottle, Gragas."

A few awkward seconds passed, Gragas looking at her with a surprised stare. He then shrugged and left the bottle on the counter, in-between the two cups. He then walked up to the cloaked man he had been talking to before Yasuo's entrance, excitedly speaking.

It was time to issue the challenge.

"So, up for a showdown?"

The Ionian smiled. He'd never refuse a challenge such as that.

"Of course. But before, I think we skipped an introduction. I am Yasuo."

Riven now also was openly smiling. Company always felt good.

"Name's Riven. Well met, Yasuo."

* * *

He had already lost the count of how many shots they'd had, but focusing himself through the veil of drunkness, he could see they were already way past the half of the bottle. In truth, they had almost drunk the entire thing, something that seemed to amaze the brewer – Gragas, wasn't it? Right now, the fatty was going on about something like how they were heavy drinkers and even he would have some trouble to keep up.

He finally managed to utter out something he had in mind for quite some time:

"Hey, Riven…"

The white-haired beauty, also having trouble to actually make out things, barely noticed that Yasuo was speaking with her.

"What is it?"

"Do you happen to know somewhere I could sleep this night? I don't think I can find a good spot after this little showdown of ours."

Riven now had been presented to a true dilemma. Should she offer him a spot in her room? Unlikely. She had just met him today, she was drunk and she had no idea if he'd accept to not try any funny things.

However, despite her better judgement, and in part because of her not-so-few shots of vodka, decided to extend him that invitation.

"Well, I have a room up here, in the second floor, but there's a problem."

Yasuo managed to shove his drunkness completely out of his way, focusing only on riven's words.

"We'll have to share a bed."

Yasuo's eyes shot wide open. He might have misinterpreted it, but if he hadn't, things were progressing way too fast.

She probably noticed what his wide-eyes meant, as she said:

"Not like that! No funny things, understood? I'm just helping you."

Well, he had no reason to refuse such a kind offer.

* * *

The two drinking buddies haphazardly made their way to the room they'd share for the night, supporting themselves by wrapping their arms round their shoulders, and then stumbling through the hall of the inn, up the stairs and finally through the short hallway before Riven's room.

They finally reached the room, not completely unscathed, as both had had way more shots than they should. Riven fumbled awkwardly her pockets for her key. After a few moments, she managed to fish it out, and now once again fumbled, as her inebriation stopped her from properly inserting the key in the lock.

When she finally managed to open the door, the two quickly went in.

They said nothing, they thought nothing. They just went straight for the bed. For the bed they'd share.

* * *

 **AN: And I'll leave the rest for your imagination. Did they walk past the line of what can't be undone? Or did they actually follow Riven's "no funny things" rule? Were they "having a good time" that night or not? You guess it.**

 **So, I'll try to upload the Kat/Ashe story after this one, but it has been hard to write. Very hard. But until then, I hope this here was good enough.**

 **Now bring forth the "Review Reply Corner(tm)"!**

 **Malleus08:** Thank you for all the praise! It's really good to hear that you, the one who asked for that story, liked it! I hope you also liked this one. :)

 **Creator0fWords:** I, through the powers conceded to me by none other than myself, hereby forgive you from all of your crimes and sins.

I love the fact that everybody seemingly was pleased by how that Lucian story came out, as I myself really loved the way it came out. And, inb4 you misunderstand the way I write, most of the content I create will end up as somehow or somewhat dark, simply because I don't know how to write a serious story which is not dark-ish. And I'm sorry for not bringing the Kat/Ashe yet, But I'm trying! Don't sue me! T.T

Anyways, I really hope this lighter fanfic pleases you as much as the previous, if not even more! And stay on your toes for the next chapter(which I hope will be the Kat/Ashe)!

 **OoMatsoO:** Well, glad to hear that you enjoyed it. Also, your suggestion has really baffled me. I sent you a PM about it. Don't take it wrong, I just am curious and want to understand what made you ask it.

 **I guess this closes the Corner. Goodbye, my dear readers! Until the next chapter!**


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